Sins of the Mother
by shirleyj-dren
Summary: I'm obsessed by Mara's origins (see my previous story, 'He Couldn't Tell', for a different angle). Thank you for your 'followings', reviews, and patience thus far - I know I'm taking ages between chapters!
1. Chapter 1

_Armand Isard, Director of Imperial Intelligence, was not a man to cross. And the young officer had obviously committed some unbelievable atrocity, because his documents demanded that he be sentenced to death. _

_ Emperor Palpatine normally had little interest in the fates of the junior officers – the training schools pumped out more and more of them every day –, but today, he made a point of bringing it up in their meeting, after Isard had finished his report. _

_ "The young man you accused of… misconduct, will be executed swiftly, Director." _

_ The loyal Isard bowed his head, but his expression was a grimace. "Men of his sort deserve a far worse punishment than death, sir. He ought to be sent to the mines of Kessel." _

_ "Come now, Director, we are not savages." _

_ "His sort are, Your Majesty." _

_ "Quite true. Perhaps I shall reconsider my feelings on those sorts of offenders. But for now, this one's fate is sealed. He'll be dead within the week." _

_ "I am eternally grateful, Majesty." _

_ The Emperor nodded, and motioned for his guards – the signal that to whomever he was speaking, was now dismissed. Armand stood, bowed, and marched stiffly from the audience chamber. _

_ Palpatine curled his scarred, disfigured lips. Unlikely, he knew, that the young man had actually done anything wrong. Ysanne Isard had always been an arrogant, precocious girl, spoiled by Armand – it came as no surprise to the Emperor that she'd be the sort to point the finger and refuse to take the consequences of her own actions. She'd probably never be a success at anything, except as the bride, or perhaps mistress, of a man equally as powerful as her father. _

Any other student entering the Jedi Academy library and research centre would think nothing of Mara Jade's being sat stiffly by a computer terminal. She was still working for her friend and long-time employer Talon Karrde on a freelance basis while studying at the Academy, and often stayed up 'til the wee hours, proving her worth – not that Karrde needed any proof, he adored her as one would a favourite niece. But Mara was ambitious, headstrong, diligent, and she needed to feel that she was still useful to his organisation, the first place she'd ever called 'home'.

Tionne Soulsar was about to finish her shift in the library, eager to get home to her husband. While she and Mara were far from friends – the young redhead seemed to stay distant from almost everyone, bar Masters Skywalker and Horn –, she knew she could trust her lock up this wing of the Academy, as she'd done before. More often than not, Tionne had returned in the morning to find Mara still at work, and had brought her a cup of caf and a ration bar or piece of fruit to keep her going. The younger woman never seemed to eat! Mara would smile up at her – shyly and fleetingly, but genuinely –, say, "Thank you, Master Soulsar,", and then continue to work on until she was completely done or she had a class.

"Mara?" Tionne called quietly, as the other remaining occupiers left the main doors for sleep, meditation, or a social interaction. Tionne nodded politely at them all, then called again, "Mara?"

No answer. She must be utterly absorbed. Stifling a yawn, Tionne headed across the library floor to the one remaining active terminal. The former Emperor's Hand had asked to see some of the old Imperial records, and no matter what else Mara might get up to on the HoloNet or for her job, Tionne needed to return those files to their correct place in the centre before she left.

What she found stunned her. Mara was not looking either at the terminal in front of her or at the open file in her lap. She was staring straight ahead, green eyes blank, freckled face utterly ashen. Concerned, Tionne hurried to her.

"Mara? Mara, what's wrong?"

The other woman turned to her as if in a trance, her eyes not registering Tionne's figure for a moment.

"What?" she whispered.

"Mara?" Tionne had reached her, but as she put out a hand to touch her shoulder, Mara seemed to come back to life, and she jumped.

"I'm… I'm sorry, Tionne. You must need to get these." She closed the file, stood, and put it hurriedly in Tionne's hand, as one would hand back someone else's crying baby: with panic and slight disgust.

"That's all right, Mara. I was just about to leave. I thought…"

"Well, so was I," Mara replied, her tone back to its usual formality. "I shall see you tomorrow – haven't quite finished a report for Captain Karrde." Outwardly, she remained composed, but Tionne could sense her Force sense trembling, like a child left out in the cold.

"Mara, dear…"

"Thank you for letting me see the files. Goodnight, Master Soulsar." Mara quickly dipped her head. "May the Force be with you," she said, almost inaudibly, and then strode past Tionne, clutching her bag to her like a shield.

Tionne thought about contacting Luke, to ask him to speak to Mara. But the Academy's founder surely had more important things to do than run after Mara Jade. What a strange girl she was.

Tionne returned the files of _Isard_, _Ysanne_ to their correct alphabetical place without really taking notice of the name, being the consummate researcher and librarian that she was.

Mara Jade hurried blindly through the mostly deserted Academy without allowing the tears to fall, being the consummate assassin and spy she'd been taught to be.


	2. Chapter 2

Armand Isard ate his stew in silence. The droids and maids had been dismissed for the evening; only the security guards remained at their posts outside the official residence.

_ Isard sat across from her father, also eating in silence. Not that she really felt like eating, but she knew that if she abandoned her stew, she would only feel ravenous later on. The extremes of abject hunger and utter loss of appetite were becoming more frequent and more radical each day, it seemed. She was going to get fat! That knowledge depressed her more than anything else about her situation. _

_ Father had had the boy punished. What had been his name again? Fred? Jed? Isard couldn't rightly remember, only that she had thoroughly enjoyed his body on hers that night she'd sneaked into the officers' mess in her most revealing outfit and heavy make-up, looking for fun. It had been his first time, too, that much was obvious. _

_ Three months later, she had put on just enough weight that her condition was obvious. Of course Father had noticed, and questioned her, and of course she'd had to tell the truth and give the boy's name, there was no fooling Armand. He had always been overprotective of her, and her story brought out the worst part of that in him. He had over-reacted, as ever. Isard sighed loudly. _

_ "Izzy?" The detested childhood nickname, but she knew to play to him when he used it. _

_ "Yes, Daddy?" _

_ Armand met her gaze. "We shall have to think of a plan, dear." _

_ "A plan, Daddy?" _

_ "Yes. A plan to deal with… with your… condition." _

_ Isard said nothing, merely glowered into her dinner bowl and picked at her nail polish. "What sort of plan?" _

_ "I have thought much about it these past few days. We shall tell everyone that it is the child of a cousin of mine, that I have been made guardian. We shall turn your old nursery into its bedroom, when it arrives." _

_ Isard was now staring at her father. "I… I must keep it?" _

_ "What other option is there, Izzy? We shan't tell it the truth, of course; it doesn't need to know. There will be some resemblance, of course, but that can't be helped." _

_ "But I don't want a baby! They're horrid!" _

_ "Izzy, darling, be reasonable. You need have nothing to do with it. I shall advertise for a good, experienced nanny. You shall only attend the functions you need to with me, as you get… bigger." He looked sad for a moment. "I'm sorry, Izzy. I'm sorry that such a thing has happened to you. But I will not allow someone of our genetic stock to be given away to be raised by Gods-know-who. It will call you 'Cousin Isard' and me 'Uncle Armand'. It's for the best, dear." He reached over and patted her hand, more behaviour of his that she loathed. _

_ After dinner, Isard flounced off to bed. Father had it all arranged: a private doctor would come over every few days to check on her and the growing baby, to ensure they were healthy, but no notes would be kept. One word of her pregnancy to anyone else, and the doctor would face serious fraud allegations and the loss of his license, or worse. The child would indeed be raised as a cousin. Isard intended to remind it every day of its place in the pecking order, the little runt. She hated it already. At least she didn't have to be its mother – once it was born, she'd be free to join the other daughters of prominent Imperial men and move through the Emperor's Court, on offer to all as a wife or – more interestingly, to Isard – as a lover. _

_ For young Isard had her eye very firmly fixed on one choice, and only he would do. _

Luke Skywalker was looking forward to an hour's meditation. His inner voice chuckled that, whenever he actively desired such peaceful activity, something always got in the way. Usually 'something' was a brewing galactic war, or a long-dead Sith Lord possessing a student. Luke dismissed the cheeky inner voice, and set down on the floor of his quarters.

Sure enough, just as he was settling, he felt a presence coming briskly in his direction, toward his room. A presence he knew and liked, a presence not at all unwelcome, but… something was wrong.

Luke got to his feet and – after quickly checking himself in the 'fresher mirror, though he wasn't sure why – opened his door just as the other being stopped on the other side.

"Hi, Mara," he said, starting to smile – he'd always enjoyed her company (since she stopped vowing to kill him, and, well, even before that…) –, but the expression on her face stopped the smile completely. Mara Jade looked as though she'd just learned something terrible. She was trying to hide her feelings of desolation and look as composed and cool as ever, but he could sense her misery through the close Force-bond they'd always shared.

"Hello, Farmboy," she managed, her voice quiet. Too quiet. And a little strangled.

"Mara, come in. What's wrong?" Luke stepped back to let her into his room (a quick check reassured him that there was nothing embarrassing lying in view, like old underwear). She accepted the invitation, but didn't meet his eyes, and hugged her bag against her at waist level, as if for protection. Then she just stood awkwardly in the middle of his room, still not looking at him.

"Mara, take the seat. Did you want to talk about something?" Luke wasn't sure whether to just be 'Luke', her friend – her only true friend – right now, or whether to be 'Master Skywalker', in whom all his students confided.

Mara didn't seem sure which side of him she wanted, either. She murmured, "Thanks," and sank slowly into the room's one chair (Luke refused to have any more space or furniture than his apprentices). Luke sat on the bed and waited for her to speak, which, eventually, she did.

"Stay out of my head, Skywalker."

"I promise I'm not in your head. I'll help you with whatever's troubling you, but you must tell me first."

A brittle little laugh. "It's a biggie."

"What is?"

"What I want to – have to – tell you."

_She's found someone. Some big, handsome action man who'll take her away from here and marry her and love her and… _Luke was stunned at the turn his thoughts had taken, and at the bitterness in the words. He hoped Mara hadn't heard them.

She hadn't. "I can't talk to anyone else about it, Luke."

"Then talk to me." And so, he listened.


	3. Chapter 3

Imperial Court was rife with rumours about the new baby living with Armand Isard and his daughter. The official line was that an unmarried cousin had asked him to be guardian to her child. While not unlikely, this story was not as scandalously fascinating as the current suggestions moving amongst the Imperial wives: that either young Ysanne had found herself in trouble about nine months ago, or that some unknown mistress or court dancer had borne Armand himself a lovechild. Those who had been invited to visit the infant insisted she looked too much like Armand to not be a direct descendant, though their husbands would later enquire as to how one made such a judgement on a child aged less than one month.

_ That was precisely how much Darth Vader knew of the Isards' domestic affairs, and that was far more than the Dark Lord felt he needed to know. Yet somehow he felt that it was this situation that was to be the primary point of discussion on his visit to the Emperor. Why, he couldn't fathom. Unless… _

_ No. The Emperor was not foolish enough to have had a liaison with one as young as Ysanne. Horrified – an emotion he hadn't known for some time –, Vader dismissed the notion from his thoughts before he entered the Emperor's throne room. As ever, his Master sat with his back turned to the doorway and his hunched, damaged body hidden completely from view in the tall chair. _

_ Vader swooped past the red-clad guards, climbed the steps, bowed. "What is thy bidding?" _

_ He was aware of the throne rotating slowly in his direction. "Rise, my friend." Vader did so, and met his Master's gaze, awaiting his instructions. _

_ "Lord Vader, I must outline an unusual mission, one to which I can entrust only you." _

_ "Yes, my Master?" _

_ "I have felt a fledging presence in the Force these past few weeks, one that is near. I have not spoken of it yet, as I wished to meditate upon its origin. It is a new, young, and of course untrained presence." _

_ "I'm afraid I do not follow, Master." _

_ "It is the Isard child, Lord Vader. There is no other explanation. No-one with whom I frequent has recently had another child in their household, bar my Intelligence Director." _

_ "Is the child… his?" _

_ "That of a cousin, he claims. But there would be many reasons to lie in order to preserve family honour. I want you to pay him a visit, under another pretext – a report for a minor incident about a Rebel group in the Corellian system is on its way to your messages, please read it thoroughly and use it as your excuse to see him. Tell him we are looking for hidden Jedi." A fiendish smile. "That would not be entirely untrue, would it?" _

They sat in utter silence, both of them still taking in what Mara had said. She remained in the room's one chair, while Luke now stood from the bed and began to walk slowly 'round the small quarters.

"I'm sorry."

He turned to her. "Huh?"

"I said I'm sorry. I know you have enough to think about…"

Luke was immediately by her side. "Oh, Mara, don't be ridiculous. I'm always here for you, you mustn't face this sort of news alone." He touched her hand hesitantly, as if afraid she'd move away; when she didn't, he lightly squeezed it.

"You had to face it alone, when you found out about Vader."

"I told Leia, eventually, when I found out the whole truth. And what a relief it was. But after Bespin… well, Han was gone, I barely knew Lando at that point, and Leia and Chewie were so focused on the Rebellion and on saving Han, that I felt I couldn't burden them."

"Did you think they'd judge you? No longer like or trust you?"

"A part of me did, yes. But it wouldn't have been true. And it's not the case here, either," he added, sitting back down across from her, on the bed.

"Luke, you were already loved and accepted for yourself. Leia and Han were your friends. I…" Mara forced herself to look away from his gentle, amiable smile, and whispered, "I don't have any friends."

"You do. You have me."

"I came here because I thought…"

"… that I'd understand?"

"Well, name me someone else at the Academy with a massacring Imperial for a parent."

The statement was only slightly in jest, and neither of them laughed. Luke had kept a loose hold of Mara's hand throughout the exchange, and he know wrapped both his own around them.

"Are you absolutely sure of this theory? I mean, it's not impossible, but Ysanne Isard wasn't even twenty years older than us."

Mara silently thanked him for not using the woman's frightful nickname. "No, not a hundred percent. But it makes sense, in keeping with my being brought up by the Emperor." Her voice shook. "What if he was my father, Luke? What if…?"

The next thing she knew, she was crying, hard. She had never cried in front of another person in her life, and the shame that came with that realisation caused her to try to stagger to her feet, but she felt the Jedi Master's hands take a steadying hold of her sides. "Luke," she said, between sobs, and didn't know why she'd spoken his name aloud. His arms came around her, and he settled into the chair with her in his arms, rocking her as one would a distressed child, murmuring her name and _it's_ _alright _and_ I'm here _over and over, and something else, very quietly, through the Force, just once or twice…

_I want you. _


	4. Chapter 4

_The Force presence was exactly as the Emperor had described: new, small, unaware. He was annoyed at himself for not sensing it before being summoned. Furthermore, he was troubled by the Emperor's keen interest in the matter. Vader's chief duty these past three years had been to find and kill any remaining Jedi, youngsters included. What in the stars could he want with the Isard baby? _

_ None of the Intelligence Director's domestic staff dared look Vader in the face – well, in the mask – as he walked to the dining-room, including the trembling valet who'd had the bad luck of answering the door to him. Yet Vader was acutely aware of the sensation of being watched. Of course Armand Isard would have security staff on duty at all times, that was standard for any high-ranking Imperial official. But, no… it wasn't that. A single being was watching him. _

_ "Director Isard?" This was the valet, sweating nervously at the dining-room entrance, a man caught between the bulk of Darth Vader and the infamous potential temper flares of the Imperial Intelligence Director. "Lord Vader for you, sir." _

_ "Thank you, Cherk." The powerfully built Armand stood from his plush nerf-leather couch. "Caf for myself. Lord Vader?" _

_ Why am I here? Vader thought despairingly, reduced to polite chat over caf? "No refreshments. Only business, Director." _

_ "As you wish." Armand nodded at the perspiring valet, who promptly fled. He knew Vader better than to offer a seat – the Dark Lord bowed to his Emperor, and towered above everyone else. _

_ That feeling of being watched... _

_ "You wished to discuss a matter of security with me?" _

_ "Yes, Director. A group in the Corellian..." _

_ A long wail erupted from somewhere else in the house. The child. The Force-sensitive child. _

_ "Have her brought to me when she is settled," Armand called to the maid who rushed by, presumably to get the baby. _

_ "Yes, sir." _

_ Well, well. So he would get to see the child after all, and report back to the Emperor. The Force was with him today. _

_ "She?" he forced himself to ask. _

_ Armand looked surprised, then, incredibly, he smiled. "Yes. My cousin's child. Her mother has unfortunately passed away – complications in the birth –, and the father is nowhere to be found. I am the next of kin with the most assets, so I took her in." _

_ Vader knew a lie when he heard one. This one was so well practiced, that Armand probably believed it himself. The maid brought the now cooing baby to her master, and Armand's smile only widened. _

_ "Thank you, Aue." The maid hurried away, away from the sinister visitor, who was too preoccupied with the raw Force power he now felt, to even notice. _

_ Yes. Perhaps this child could be... useful. _

Mara eventually forced herself to quiet, but still kept hiccupping. Each time she did, she muttered, "Damn", and heard Luke snort softly in amusement. Eventually, she began to chuckle whenever she made the noise, more from embarrassment than anything else. Luke's arms stayed 'round her body, his hands moving cautiously over hers (was she still someone to be so wary around?). As the minutes passed, she moved their joined hands up to his chest, studying the battle-scarred palm and knuckles of his left hand against the smooth perfection of the mechanical right one, the one he had gained after Vader cut off his flesh-and-bone hand during their Cloud City confrontation. Not many people knew how and when Luke had discovered that Vader was really Anakin Skywalker, his father; this news hadn't become public knowledge until much later, when Vader's records had been recovered, his true identity revealed, and questions had been asked about the Skywalker name. Almost everyone, including Mara's fellow Jedi Academy students, believed that Luke and his sister, Leia, had found out at the same time as the general public (it had of course been a top HoloNews story for weeks). Mara was among only a few who knew the truth – because Luke liked and trusted and cared for her.

"Could I stay here tonight?"

Luke, roused from the comforting half-sleep of rocking his friend, blinked down at her a couple of times before replying. "Oh. Yes, of course you can. I could do with spending a night in the meditation garden, anyway."

"I meant with you, Skywalker."

He looked stunned, all his Jedi Master calmness gone. "With me?" he whispered. He reached to touch her cheek. "Really? Are you sure?"

"Why, do you sleepwalk or something?"

He gasp-laughed. "No, I mean… I wouldn't want you to just because you've… well, if you're still upset…"

Mara stared at him. "Fine," she muttered. She got up and retrieved her bag, as quietly and smoothly as a Noghri guard might disable an intruder. "I'll just go. Offer withdrawn."

"Mara? I – what's wrong? I didn't mean to offend you." Luke was equally fast and equally fluid in his movements, suddenly standing in front of her. He touched her face again.

"Forget it, Skywalker, it's fine. Former Imperial concubines don't stand a chance with Jedi Masters. Gotcha."

"Oh, Mara, that's not… you know that's not what I meant! I want you here, of course I do. You know I care for you. But only if you _want_ to be here, and be with _me_. I…" He looked down, closed his eyes, and sighed heavily. "I'm really kriffing this up."

Touched, she set her bag back down. "No, Luke, you're not. I get your meaning. I'm just not good at this."

"Nor am I. And I don't want our friendship wrecked just because you're upset and need comfort. If we do this…" He met her eyes again. "It's for real, right?"

At her nod, he reached for her again.


	5. Chapter 5

_The Coruscant Finishing School had taught her to sit by a man, wait for him to acknowledge her, then to smile adoringly and only ask him questions about himself. 'Womens' talk' had no place in a budding relationship with an Imperial officer. _

_ But for years, Ysanne had watched the daughters and sisters and nieces of her father's fellows, behave exactly this way around the Emperor… and never, ever met his regard. He rarely acknowledged them; the few 'lucky' ones who did gain his attention, would turn up at the next ball or event as concubines. _

_ I am no goddamn concubine, she thought. _

_She had returned to school after the hideous little growth's removal, and would now graduate top of her class. She would go into the Intelligence Department, like her father. _

_Let's see him try to stop me! _

_But, until the applications for new recruits started, she was stuck with going to society balls and pretending to be even vaguely interested in the dancing and drinking and gossiping. Ugh! _

_At least the biggest ones brought the richest men… including… _

_The hideous little growth – now not so little, quite fat in fact – began shrieking from the nursery. Ysanne, knocked rudely from her musings, headed down the hallway, lazily, calmly. The nursery had once been her dressing room but, "Your bedroom is quite big enough for you to use as a dressing-room, too, Izzy. Jade needs room to grow up and play." _

_Ysanne had never seen her father so happy at home. "You were quite a difficult baby", he'd always liked telling her. And the hideous little growth was just an angel in comparison, it seemed! Even when it shrieked blue murder. He loved baby Jade Isard, his newest friend, always fussing over her. It was infuriating to watch, embarrassing, even. _

_The maids hadn't come quickly enough. Father would have them punished. _

_Ysanne smiled. There was no kindness in her smile. _

_She reached into the cot. "Hello, creature," she hissed. _

_The baby's wails ceased, but she continued to whimper, and she opened her blue-green eyes and blinked uncertainly up at Ysanne. _

"_Yes, you. I have stretchmarks because of you, you little horror. And I have to pee more often, and I nearly didn't fit into my finest dress last week. Nearly. Had I not fit at all, you know where you'd be?" _

_ Baby Jade only whimpered again. _

_ "Facedown in the swimming pool, yes! Or out the window, it's such a long way down." Ysanne's smile widened, hardened. "You know what I'd like to do best? Wrap you up in this kriffing quilt, and bash it against these pink walls until you were in bits. He wouldn't love you then, little Jade, oh no." _

_ The baby seemed still unsure of her visitor, and let out a bleating cry. _

_ "Pink! I ask you! These walls wouldn't be pink if you'd never come along." Ysanne leaned down and leered, right in the baby's wide-eyed face. _

_ "I hate you, child. One day, you'll be sorry you were born. I promise you." _

_ By the time the maid on duty finally reached the nursery, Ysanne was long gone, back in her bedroom, and plotting. _


	6. Chapter 6

Mara Jade usually enjoyed being right – she was used to it. And she was equally used to long hours of research, into any given topic; such activity was the duller part of being a spy, assassin, smuggler, and now Jedi.

But now that she'd confided in Luke, she wanted so badly to be wrong.

The autopsy on Isard – killed a year ago by the New Republic agent Iella Wessiri –, indicated that she had had a Caesarean some thirty years before her death, when she would have been a teenager. Luke sat in the Academy library, reading over the same medical files that Mara had been studying the night before.

"It makes sense, doesn't it?"

Luke paused, gathering his usual serenity back. "Well, yes. I suppose it does. It explains why the Emperor knew of you, too."

"Knew of me? He might have…" Mara bit her lip. "They were certainly lovers, for most of my life. He might have been my…" She actually could not finish the sentence, not even in her own head. The idea was repulsive. Repulsive because of who Palpatine had been, and because…

Another sentence she could not bear to finish.

_You can't tell Luke. Not yet. No, _she corrected herself,_ not ever. _

"If he was, that's no reflection on you. On the person you are today." Luke Skywalker knew better than anyone, that this statement had truth.

"I still deserve to know!" she hissed.

Luke was probably taken aback at her harshness, but he didn't show it. Instead, he put down Isard's file, filled with its poisonous possibilities, and took Mara's hand.

"Of course you do. And I'm with you all the way. I'll do whatever you need me to do."

She couldn't help smiling at him then. A small, hesitant smile, but beautiful to him nonetheless. Luke wanted so badly to protect her from any further misery, after all she'd been through, or at least be by her side whenever any unpleasantness did arise in her life. They had spent last night in his quarters, just holding one another, kissing and caressing and talking. It had been simple, and sweet, and a new experience for both of them. Luke had never been with anyone, and she…

How to describe her so-called 'love' life? She'd spent her teens and early twenties seducing, and if necessary bedding, any man whom she'd needed to get close to, in her role as 'Emperor's Hand'. After Palpatine's death, she'd endured a hellish period of having to sell herself to get by, to some of lowest-level scumbags floating around the galaxy, before eventually finding other work. Some nights, in the shower in her quarters, she still felt as though she could never wash off the sweat and grease and shame. Since joining Karrde's organisation, she'd managed, somehow, to enjoy a few one-night stands with relatively attractive, pleasant men whom she came into contact with; and, okay, some of those still ran in the vein of seducing them to guarantee a contract, but at least under Karrde, she'd never been forced into such situations, and didn't feel thoroughly self-loathing afterwards.

Not like under Palpatine. She hated him, that first man in her life, more and more as time went on. For all the years of lying to and manipulating her, and for everything he had inflicted upon the galaxy, while she'd believed so strongly that all of his cruelties had been for a worthy cause.

"Mara?" Luke's gentle voice. A new beginning. A whole new way to cleanse the past horrors, and to face those still to come. She needed the truth, now, however much it may hurt. She'd always pulled through before, and now, she had Luke.

_You wouldn't have him, if he knew the whole truth…_

For now, he knew enough. She'd told him about her sexual past, and he had not judged, just listened, and held her even more tightly to him when she'd finished, banishing the fresh waves of shame.

"It's getting late. Do you want to go to the main hall, see if Corran or the others are about?"

Mara blinked at him. "Together?"

He smiled. "Why not? Let 'em talk."

She took his hand. "Yes. Let's."


	7. Chapter 7

"_Daddy?" _

_Armand glanced up in surprise. It was rare enough, that his daughter spoke to him at all these days, in between all her studying; her use of 'Daddy', rather than 'Father', softened his powerful but daughter-foolish soul. And now, here she stood, his beloved Ysanne, in the doorway to Jade's nursery, acknowledging him. _

"_Yes, Izzy?" _

"_May I ask a question?" _

"_Of course, dearest." He returned his attention briefly to little Jade, almost a year old now, and returned her huge smile as she handed him a soft toy. _

"_Thank you," he said emphatically to the infant, who squealed and clapped her small hands in response. He had named her after her eyes, which even with their newborn blue had had a green tint to them. Now, she had dark red curls and, indeed, eyes to match her name; she was a gorgeous little creature. _

_Cooing lovingly at Jade, Armand almost missed Ysanne's settling herself next to him on the floor, on the other side of him from her 'accident'. He missed completely, her face darkening in pure hatred. _

"_Daddy." Again, but harder, colder, more insistent. _

"_Ah, yes, of course, darling." He smiled at her. "What is it you wanted to ask me about?" _

_Ysanne's mismatched eyes – one blue, like his and like her late mother's, the other a ruby red, the result of a birth defect – met his straight-on, as all Isards should. "Where in the stars did Darth Vader come from?" _

_Armand frowned slightly. "Why do you wish to know?" _

"_He comes up in conversation among the Imperial Academy students. I'm one of them, and I'm curious. He hasn't been around very long, has he?" _

"_Darling Izzy, you know I can't discuss Intelligence with you, or the Emperor's… staff." _

"_Staff?" Ysanne sneered. "He can hardly be classed as 'staff', Daddy. He's not a chambermaid!" _

"_Izzy, you know what I…" _

"_I plan to join you in the Imperial Service," she interrupted. "You can speak to me as your fellow. As a subordinate, if you like, but as a fellow. I can be trusted, Daddy." Her gaze continued to bore into his. For several long moments, they stared at one another like this, until Jade's babytalk broke the strained silence. _

_Armand acknowledged Jade by lightly stroking her hair, but for the first time since the baby's arrival, he kept his focus entirely on Ysanne. His daughter was, for the first time in her life, working for his respect rather than his fatherly affections. She deserved an answer. _

"_I can satisfy your personal curiosity, but you mustn't share this information He came into the Emperor's service about four years ago. He was a Jedi Knight, the most powerful one that has ever lived, supposedly. Emperor Palpatine recruited him to help destroy the Jedi." _

"_I didn't realise the Emperor would bother much with a group of wizards." _

"_They were a dominant agency in the Republic, dearest. That is one of the reasons that system fell – too many groups allowed a certain amount of power, with no real leader. That's why we need Emperor Palpatine. One day, you'll have the honour of serving him, too." _

_Ysanne smiled, faintly. "Do you trust Vader?" _

_Armand pondered the question, continuing to lightly rub Jade's little body while she picked up and dropped each of her soft toys in turn. _

"_He is certainly loyal to our Emperor. To whom else other than himself, I do not know. He certainly inspires fear, and a man with that talent will always have followers." _

"_Or a woman." _

"_I suppose, yes. We have no prominent women in the ranks. You could be the first. And our little one could follow you." He beamed at Jade again, and she giggled and began chewing on a toy pittin. _

"_Curiosity satisfied, Izzy?" Armand asked, without looking at her. _

"_Yes." Harder again. Ysanne stood, glaring down at the pair of them. Her father had been right – she would be the most powerful female in this galaxy, one day, of that she was certain. And the first two to fall, would be the two people playing together on the nursery floor she left behind as she walked from the room. _

Mara woke with a start, her hands together in a grasping shape, as they had been in the dream.

"Mara?" Luke was awake instantly. "Mara, are you all right?" His voice brought her back to reality, back to the warmth of the bed they now shared almost every night.

"A pittin," she whispered. "I had a pittin."

Luke leaned in closer, holding her against him – an action from which she no longer automatically shrank, one which she now accepted as normal and loving, and not suffocating. "A pet?"

"No. A toy. But I remember… he handed it to me."

"Palpatine?"

"No." She closed her eyes, relishing the memory. "Someone else. Someone who genuinely cared about me."

"Your real father, do you think?"

"I hope so. It feels that way. Sort of." She shook her head, her red hair tickling against his arms and chest. "I'm sorry, I'm talking nonsense."

"No-one could ever say anything sensible at this time of night, love." He kissed the top of her head – they were the same height, so when she snuggled down against him in bed, he relished being able to feel like the strong man who could protect her.

"That sister of yours probably could."

"Oh, more than likely." They smiled at one another, relieved and in love and a little coy. They were in love, but it had only been a few weeks; they were still giddy of the feeling and still nervous of its implications. The other Jedi they socialised and trained with had their suspicions, Han and Leia Solo had _always _had their suspicions, and no-one knew for sure.

"But it was taken away," Mara said suddenly, remembering the dream. "Someone took it from me, and I was devastated. And he was taken away, too."

"Is that what you dreamed?"

"It was more like a flashback, Luke. Like a forgotten memory. It was so real."

"What did he look like?"

"I only saw his hands and heard his voice. It was me, him, and the toy. But I know he was taken, or I was taken from him."

They lay together in silence, curled up close, both of them thinking of the possibilities.


	8. Chapter 8

_The graduation of the newest batch of officers from the Imperial Academy, was finally ending. Darth Vader grimaced as the hooligan cries from a group of young men floated past the Palace. How he hated pomp and celebration! Life was about duty, sacrifice, power. Something these youngsters would have to learn, or die. _

_ The Sith Lord had been summoned by his Emperor following the festivities, which for some reason his Master insisted upon attending. They had been discussing continually, the Isard baby, now a year old and still a strong Force presence. The Emperor had still never seen her. Vader had not been able to spend a lot of time around her – she seemed all too aware of the darkness in him, and howled and could not be comforted whenever he visited the Isard residence on the pretext of business. _

_ Would he have frightened his own…? _

_ Vader stopped, collected himself. Such ponderings were pointless. No. he couldn't let himself think of the past. The here and now, was what mattered. _

_ He continued on to the throne room. _

_ And stopped. Someone else was apparently waiting for his Master. _

_ "Greetings, Lord Vader." The young graduate looked up at him without the slightest flinch. A tough one, like her father. _

_ "Miss Isard." _

_ "Yes. Soon, I will be Officer Isard. Will I have the pleasure of working with you directly, Lord Vader?" _

_ Was this little whore mocking him? Toying with him? He could not be sure. _

_ "I am here to see the Emperor. I take precedence over you, Miss Isard." _

_ "Is that so?" Her mismatched eyes ran up and down his body armour, and she stepped toward him. "What if, one day, you don't? Would that bother you, Lord Vader?" _

_ "Get out of my way, child." _

_ "Child!" She threw back her head and giggled, high and delighted and probably crazy. "You call me 'child', Lord Vader?" She met his gaze and held it. "I am no longer the child of my own household!" _

_ "I do know this to be the case. Why trouble me with it?" _

_ "Because you visit my father's house, and you watch. You always watch that dear little cousin of mine. Why is that, Lord Vader?" _

_ He remained silent. Had she been any other graduate, he would have already strangled her by now. And he sensed she was slightly drunk, away with high spirits. He would keep his temper, save face. _

_ "Did you ever have a child, Lord Vader?" _

_ "No!"_

_Ysanne sneered. "Could you, now, even if you wanted to?" She leaned back against the Palace wall, those weird eyes still appraising him. _

_Rage practically melting him inside, Vader still managed to turn away and ignore the intoxicated teenager, and to walk along the last corridor to lead to the throne room. _

_Kneeling before his Master, he asked, "What is thy bidding?" _

_The Emperor's curved throne faced away from him today, but the response was quick. _

"_Lord Vader, we must act sooner or later regarding the Isard child. She is, what, a year old?" _

"_As I understand it, my Master." _

"_She is strong. My Director of Intelligence sometimes brings her to his office quarters. I have felt her presence, and I'm sure she has felt mine. She will belong to me, one day." _

"_My Master, is she to become a Sith, like myself?" _

"_No, she will have a different use, Lord Vader. A young girl can be useful to the Empire's service in a way that the physically warped, like ourselves, cannot be." _

_If Vader chose to listen to his feelings, which he absolutely did not, they would have been stung horribly by that remark. 'Physically warped'. _

_He had been handsome, once. Padme had thought so… _

"_Is your mind focused on the situation at hand, Lord Vader?" The Emperor's voice was even colder than usual. Why was he so impatient today? What was of such pressing importance to him? _

"_It is, Emperor." _

"_Good." A withered, white old hand appeared from the throne's side, index finger raised. "I am working on my own personal plan to have the child brought to me. I continue to depend on you, however, to continue liaising with Director Isard – perhaps he can be persuaded to let his little beloved join a… special program. For early recruits." Palpatine's voice was rich with his amusement. It was an amusement Vader did not share; in fact, it unnerved him slightly. _

"_Good night, Lord Vader." Back to dismissive and impatient. _

"_And to you, my Master." He rose to depart. _

"_Lord Vader?" _

"_Yes, my Master?" _

"_One last instruction. Tell Miss Isard that she may return, now that our session is done." _

"_I… shall, Emperor." Return? What? _

_Sure enough, the slim young woman remained at the throne room doors, completely ignoring the Emperor's scarlet-clad guards and staring straight ahead. Her earlier tipsiness seemed to have passed. _

"_The Emperor requests your presence." Vader could not keep the disgust from his tone. _

"_As His Majesty wishes," she replied, and strode past him, arrogant and reeking of perfume and her own determination. _

_Vader returned to his quarters, disturbed to his broken, burned core. _

"Now, Ms Jade, you can be left alone to open the results, but I have to come back and confirm that you have seen them and that they are scientifically accurate. Mr. Ven will also have to sign as a legal witness."

The Twi'lek lab assistant was such a pretty, good-natured little thing, that Mara almost forgot why she was here. Probably the reason this girl was picked to chat to patients in the first place.

"Um, thanks," she said.

"We'll away, then." The assistant turned her big, bright, cherry-purple smile on Luke and Nawara Ven, the pilot-turned-attorney whom a Jedi could most rely upon in any matters of law. Luke's Force presence brushed Mara's lovingly as he walked by.

"Master Skywalker?" She somehow remembered the protocol, even though her mind was swimming and her hands shaking. "Would you stay?"

Luke stared at her, a brief flash of love running through his aura. He glanced at the assistant and Nawara Ven.

"If Ms Jade wishes you to stay, Master Skywalker…"

"I will." He came and sat next to Mara, keeping a professional distance so as to avoid gossip. _Thank you_, she sent through their bond.

When the others had exited, Mara opened the file that had been placed in her lap by the assistant after the tests had been run. Ysanne Isard's unmarked remains were in a sealed jar a few doors down, with a blood sample of Mara's nearby.

She opened the file.

_Ninety-nine percent. _

"She was," Mara whispered, shaking more. Luke stood, forgetting or dismissing protocol, and held her in his arms.

"Oh, love…"

"No, it's fine. I know, now."

But it wasn't fine. A mother would not have done to her child, all the things 'Iceheart' had done over to Mara during her youth and after the Emperor's death. She wouldn't have allowed certain things to happen… had she really loathed her that much? Had Mara been a mistake, the result of a shameful one-night stand, or an unhappy relationship, or an act of violence? Had Ysanne wished for a son, had she been unable to have any more children? Had she simply been too young to comprehend motherhood and rejected her baby?

But none of these possibilities explained Mara's being raised by the Emperor. None of them.

Too may questions and likelihoods. Mara felt sick. She put her head between her knees, felt Luke's concern wash over her. He was on the ground, kneeling in front of her, holding her hands. She couldn't see his face through her horror-blurred vision, but she sensed his love and his wanting to help.

That was the last thing she knew before she lost consciousness completely, the weight of her agony dropping from the sky to crush her like a bug.


End file.
